Tuesday, June 17, 2014

Psychotic Acid Freek on Baby Carrot Records

First of all I just want to say the fact I just found out these guys are from Spain has absolutely nothing to do with pinning their sound to a place, all of my theories about scenes creating a sound just went right out the window. Up until I checked out their Facebook page I was convinced this was at the very least a west coast thread of Ty Segall or Mac Demarco, until I couldn't read a single post. Not even the two of them in white shirts leaning up against a blank wall in what could have been anywhere USA gave anything away, in fact that shopping cart should have been the thing that made this more American than the southern rock blues coming out of the speakers.

"Pawn Shop Blues" has a rough gritty riff, a low bending crunch with a far off slight echo drums. It's an all tom riff starting off from a metal blues place, almost Sabbath style low end demonic stuff. They lured it into garage and Mummies scuzz with Mack's screaming distortion 'Gimme my money!". All solos, lots of guitar work blasted over top of this, the sauce to the noodling steady drums from 'Motocross'. Can't get over these two guys standing by the side of a supermarket someone just popped off the disposable camera flash next to a shopping cart. These are the garage rock blues and Mack's not just singing, it's a growl, a tough guy snarl and dull bleaaaaa. He wants his money, it's either personal experience with having to constantly get those instruments out of hock or just seeing a guy who's a completely mess with a JSBX half serious mix roots. The only way to get away with that loaded genre maybe is to not attempt to cover it unless you are amazing or poke a little fun at yourself. You could even think of Beck's era of his own version of urban pop culture blues. Like Hot Lunch or The enthusiasts they take those bent, expressive distortions and line them right up with those vocals. It's almost more about the guitar playing than the vomiting vocal that gets buried under these blown out melodies. Panning and wah wah works against this primal animal part of the brain that's going to do anything to get that money. A rough psych, like those Bikers on Acid movies, they don't get all nice or anything just fucking crazy.

B-Side's "Remember" slows things down to a Shirelles beat the back and forth tom and snare, Mack is way up in the mix and this is like that early Jesus and Mary Chain stuff with a Bass Drum of Death fuzz in its heavy dose of distance and depth with a tambourine that's sustained echo/reverb'd into space. The loneliest sound that I'm still nostalgic for - the shimmery smash of the tambourine surrounded by nothing, in a space that couldn't possibly exist. These cherry picked elements are strewn all over as well as a nod Suicide's crazy breakdown towards the end of this twinkling away on the strings past the end of the neck. A JAMC prom, he's croaking into the mic, breathy and catching every ack. Unbalanced, he isn't going to deliver anything straightforward; that's the freek part you can never understand. What the motivation let alone what this lyric is about. Take the garage effects and twist knobs into a screechy reverb delay fading into twinkly string pings. The psych is where the pedals take you.

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